


The Sins of the Father

by Radiday



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiday/pseuds/Radiday
Summary: Betty's always been able to count of Fred.





	The Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> My version of the Fred/Betty scene from the finale. Some dialogue taken from the finale. Ignores Jughead sacrificing himself.

Fred tried to ignore the ever present growing bruise on his abdomen as he and Archie made their way across their lawn and into the Cooper’s, drawn by the police lights and sirens. Archie parted ways to find Betty, leaving Fred standing helplessly in the lawn, watching as Hal Cooper is taken away in handcuffs.

His stomach curled.

Hal Cooper was the Black Hood. His childhood friend was the one that shot him. His baseball buddy, his Boy Scout pal- 

His thoughts are interrupted by the shrieking of another childhood friend behind him.

He looks up to see Alice Cooper, clinging onto the railing of her front steps, knuckles white in an attempt to stay upright. He moves towards her without a second thought, unhooking her hands from the railing.

“Allie, he says. It’s a nickname he hasn’t used in years. For some reason, it rolls off his tongue now.

Her face is crooked in sobs, her body shaking with each breath. “Allie,” he repeats, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close and letting her sobs shake his body too. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’ll all be okay.”

They stay like that as the police wrap up, as Tom Keller approaches then and asks for a statement.

Fred doesn’t give Alice a chance to respond. “Can’t they do it tomorrow, Tom?”

Sheriff Keller looks back and forth between them, feeling sad and shame and guilt. He nods wordlessly and gathers his men and leaves.

Left alone standing on the lawn, the Andrews men and the Cooper women stand in silence, watching the police lights get smaller and smaller in the distance.

Archie moves with Betty closer to their parents, Archie’s arms around Betty just like Fred’s are Alice.

Fred looks back at Betty then says loud enough for all of them to hear, “You’ll stay with us tonight?” He poses it as a question, but they all know he won’t take no as an answer.

Betty nods into Archie, eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. They begin to move towards the Andrews house when Fred removes his arms from Alice and calls, “Archie, you go on ahead. I’ll lock up.” He turns back to Alice, asking gently, “The keys still where they used to be?”

Alice nods soullessly and joins her daughter and Archie on the walk back.

Fred enters his house after securing the Cooper’s front door to find Alice sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the destroyed coffee table. He’d forgotten about the second Black hood attack earlier that night. Alice looks up at him, eyes wide and mouth open, ready to ask a question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred says, taking his jacket off. “Nobody got hurt.”

Archie and Betty reappear from the kitchen, Betty wearing the same blank expression as her mother.

“Betty, you and your mom take my room, okay?” Fred says. Another question that’s really a statement.

Betty opens her mouth to protest, but Alice beats her to it. “Fred, no…”

Fred puts a hand up. “It’s alright. Just for tonight.”

Alice nods blankly again, and Betty moves towards her. “Come on, Mom,” she says. “We should go to sleep.”

Alice lets Betty direct her towards the stairs before stopping and turning back to Fred. “Mr. Andrews, is it alright if I take a shower?”

Fred nods. “Of course, Betty. Archie’ll get you both some towels.” He nods to his son, who nods back and follows the Coopers up the stairs.

Fred sighs and starts to pull out the couch, wincing as the most recent attempt on his life makes himself known. He breathes through it and secures the pull out couch before moving to the fridge to get a beer.

He pops the top off with his teeth and spits it onto the counter, and sets the beer down on the island. He starts to remove his sweater, biting his tongue to keep from groaning out loud.

“You alright?” He jumps at Archie’s voice.

“Yeah,” he says, the pain rendering him breathless. “I’m good,” he repeats for the third time that night.

“You should take something for that,” Archie nods to the black and purple bruise that’s peeking through his white undershirt. “Do you still have the meds the hospital gave you?”

Fred shakes his head. “I tossed those,” he says. “But there is Advil in the cabinet down here, if you don’t mind.”

Archie nods dutifully and returns moments later with the bottle. Fred takes two in one hand and swallows them dry.

“Are you sure you don’t want my bed tonight, Dad? I can sleep down here.”

Fred sips his beer. “I’ll be fine, son. Betty settled in?” He gestures upstairs with the beer bottle.

Archie nods. “Yeah, they’re both going to bed,” he says, fiddling with the kitchen towel hanging on the stove.

“You should do that too.”

Archie nods, unsure of what else to say. He moves to the stairs before pausing. “You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, son,” Fred says in between sips. “I’ll be just fine.”

Hours later, Fred’s still awake, two beers in and mindlessly flipping through the channels in hopes to find something that will numb him to sleep. He settles on QVC, sitting back with his feet crossed at the ankles on the makeshift bed, when he hears creaking on the stairs. He looks up to see Betty, eyes puffy from crying and lack of sleep, looking somewhat confused on the landing.

“Do you need something, Betty?” He chooses his words carefully. ‘Are you alright?’ just doesn’t seem to cut it right now.

Betty shakes her head blankly and starts to turn back around. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says, oblivious to the light shining from the TV.

“You didn’t,” Fred gestures to the screen. “Come sit, if you’d like. Do you want water, tea?” He asks, rising to enter the kitchen.

Betty blinks and climbs onto the pull out. “Tea? You like tea, right?” Fred fills in.

Betty nods and blinks again. “You sit, I’ll get it,” Fred says. “And feel free to change the channel,” he calls from the kitchen.

Betty fumbles with the remote but doesn’t change it. Fred renters the room, two steaming cups, one in each hand. “Green alright?”

“Yeah,” Betty says finally.

Fred hums and sits in the La-Z-Boy next to her. He takes a sip and opens his mouth to speak, but Betty beats him to it.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice barely even a whisper, eyes glued to the mug.

Fred sighs. He was expecting this. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I,” Betty chokes. “How could I miss this? He’s my father…”

“You can’t blame yourself, Betty. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“He’s my dad,” she repeats, louder this time. “I’ve known him my whole life.”

Fred sits forward and holds the warm mug in both hands. “I’ve known your father longer than you’ve been alive. I didn’t see it either.”

“Do you hate him?” Betty asks quickly, locking eyes with Fred.

Fred blinks. He tries not to take too long to respond. “No,” he says finally. “I don’t hate him.”

“How can you not?” Betty asks, eyes wet. “He shot you. He almost killed you.” The tears slip down her cheeks.

Fred purses his lips. “I hate what he did. I hate the Black Hood. But I don’t hate your father.”

“They’re one and the same,” Betty says, picking skin off her nails more and more aggressively.

Fred reaches out and takes her hand, effectively stopping her. He takes a tissue from the side table and wraps her bleeding thumb in it.

“I hate him,” Betty says. “I hate my father.”

Fred nods slowly. “You’re allowed to hate him, Betty. After everything he put you through.”

“You don’t,” she says as she looks up.

Fred sighs again, sitting back in the chair. “I,” He starts. “I don’t,” he repeats. “I’m angry with him. I’m angry that he hurt me, that he hurt my son, that he hurt _you_. But I don’t hate him.” He hesitates. Look, Betty, I’ve known your father since we were children. And his parents,” he stops to shift in his seat, gathering his thoughts. “His parents weren’t good people. They didn’t treat him right. They...They let the darkness inside of him fester. They used it to their advantage.”

Betty shakes her head, her face empty. “But I have the same darkness. I’m just like him.”

“No,” Fred says, leaning forward. “Betty, look at me. You’re nothing like him. You know how I know that?” Betty shakes her head. “Because you’re sitting here crying about what your father did. Your worried about being like him. Your father,” he shifts again, “your father didn’t think what he was doing was wrong. Neither did his parents. They actually believed they were doing the right thing.”

Betty looks away, so Fred reaches out and cusps her chin with his hand, stroking it with his thumb. “And you’re apologizing to me for something you didn’t do. You’re a good person, Betty. You are.”

Betty blinks away tears to clear her vision and crosses her legs onto the pulled out sofa. “If I’m such a good person, then why do I hate him?”

“Betty, you can’t compare how you feel to me. Or to your mom, or Polly, for that matter. You have the right to feel however you want to feel,” he pauses to let her hear the words. “Look, he’s not my father. He never owed me anything. He was never supposed to protect me, or look after me. But he was,” he lifts her head again, "supposed to be those things for you. And he let you down. And you have every right to hate him.”

Betty nods slightly, running her finger along the edge of the mug. “I just don’t see how we can get past this.”

“You know, my mother used to say, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I don’t know if I believe that.” Betty looks at him expectantly. “But what I do know, is that it’ll take time before you can even think about him without you’re blood boiling. But one day,” he grasps her knee, “One day, it’ll be something you think of and it won’t make you angry.” Betty opens her mouth, but Fred keeps going. “That doesn’t mean you won’t still hate him. You might,” he shrugs, “You might not. But one day, you’ll be able live your life without him being in your every thought.”

Betty wipes the tears away, letting Fred speak again. “Nobody can tell you how to feel, Betty. Nobody can control what ends up happening. But it will get easier, eventually. You will survive this,” he finishes with a fatherly smile.

Betty smiles back. “Thanks, Mr. Andrews.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“No, I mean, for everything,” Betty says with a shrug. “For everything you’ve done for me and my mom, and for Polly. For this town.”

Fred looks at her with kind eyes but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. Instead, he says, “You tired yet? Because if not, they’re usually playing all the old James Bond movies at this hour.”

Betty laughs, wiping away the last of her tears. Fred joins her on the pull out and tells her the channel. “Drink your tea,” he adds. “It’ll get cold.”


End file.
